


Space

by MeansToOffend (goodmorning)



Series: Pick Me Up [26]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2006-2007 NHL Season, 2010-2011 NHL Season, 2017-2018 NHL Season, M/M, Pick-Up Lines, Pittsburgh Penguins, meddling goalies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 20:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorning/pseuds/MeansToOffend
Summary: "Sid’s been hung up on him foreleven fucking years, is all, to the point where it almost feels like another superstition, and he just really wishes he wasn’t, sometimes."





	Space

“Sid, you’re doing it again,” Tanger says in his ear, and Sid stops staring - okay, fine, glaring - at Geno.

“No I’m not,” he says, putting on a neutral expression and turning to face Tanger instead. “I’m looking at you.” 

Tanger snorts, shooting him the tired look that’s all too familiar after all this time. He rolls his eyes but says nothing, and Sid feels a familiar pang of unhappiness that the double act, the two who have always kept him from going off the deep end, have been split up. Slipping into sadness is dangerous, though, because it makes Sid more than a little introspective, very maudlin, and inclined to dwell far too much on the sacrifices he’s always made for this, for hockey, the thing that’s given him so much happiness over the years. He doesn’t feel like he should be able to resent it for anything - but, then, there’s a lot he shouldn’t be able to resent, that he still manages to anyway. Like, for instance, Geno.

Geno, right now, is flirting, not with one person but a whole group of them. Sometimes he’ll single in on one and make her laugh, make him blush, but he has them all eating out of the palm of his hand, and Sid- Sid’s not jealous or anything, not really. Not of Geno, anyway. But it’s just- Geno is a good teammate, and Sid really has no right to feel this way, like- okay, so he’s jealous. Of them. The people Geno is flirting with.

Sid knows he doesn’t have any claim on Geno’s feelings, that Geno can want whatever he wants and it’s none of Sid’s business at all, but- Sid’s been hung up on him for _eleven fucking years_ , is all, to the point where it almost feels like another superstition, and he just really wishes he wasn’t, sometimes.

\--

It’s dangerous to have a crush on a teammate, Sid tells himself over and over again. The world is not exactly accepting to people like him, and he doesn’t want to be the cause of anyone losing his home, his team-family, just because Sid grew feelings and made it uncomfortable. It’s dangerous to have a crush on a teammate, he reminds himself when he meets smiling Flower and suggestive Tanger, dangerous for his heart, because he’s not under the delusion that anyone else on the team or even in the league is- has- wants- likes men. It’s dangerous to have a crush on anyone at all, he thinks, with the press- he shudders.

But all his careful planning, locking his heart behind heavy doors, is entirely for nothing when Geno wanders into Mario’s house looking lost and exhausted and, unbeknownst to Sid, holding every single key.

Gonch follows, to translate, and they eat dinner alone, just the four of them. Sid tries not to ask too many questions, doesn’t want to make Geno feel even more overwhelmed than he already looks. But he does, eventually, ask one.

“Why did you leave Russia?” 

When Gonch relays the question, Geno speaks for a long time, gesturing incomprehensibly and ending with a sheepish grin. Gonch gives him a look, half disapproving and half indulgent. “He says, basically, that he wanted to play in the NHL, that he wanted to play with you, and that there were also,” a pause, “personal and political reasons.”

Sid wants to ask about them, but he doesn’t. If it was any of his business, Gonch would have been more specific in his translation, but he wasn’t, so it’s not.

\--

(Geno has three years in the Superleague, and Sid- in a moment of madness, he agrees to let Geno go out last, and- well, he should have known right then, really.

And Geno- Geno humours him, and there’s a new superstition, a handshake, and in eleven years Sid’s going to feel like a complete idiot when he thinks of this.)

\--

Actually, Sid finds out what “personal and political reasons” means when the season starts. The team start to go out together, and, while Sid sits close to everyone else, habit from his rookie season, Geno grins and slips away from them with no effort at all, and starts flirting. With literally everyone. Including men. And that’s- but he- and _Sid_ \- okay, so it isn’t Russia, but it’s still not the safest thing to be out in America, not safe to hit on men outside the context of actual gay spaces, not at all safe to do it when you’re maybe inches away from becoming a minor sports celebrity, but it never comes back to bite Geno, never leaves a mark.

Some of the men do, though. Not as often as the women, Sid’s pretty sure, but they do. It takes Sid a long time to figure out why he notices it so much. When he does, he kind of hates himself. A lot. Maybe too much.

(It’s nothing compared to the way he’ll hate himself in eleven years.)

\--

Sid doesn’t want to be friends with Geno.

The language barrier is one thing, with everything else on Sid’s plate, but the feelings are something else entirely, and- so maybe Geno sleeps with men, right, fine, but he’s never acted interested in sleeping with Sid at all, and Sid just- he needs to not be close with Geno right now, so he can lose these stupid feelings and not have to worry about ruining anything for anyone, about fucking with the team’s dynamic.

Except, of course, he doesn’t lose the feelings, and Geno is the type who just insinuates himself into people’s lives, who nobody ever minds intruding because he’s so good-humoured, and Sid can’t bring himself to mind, either, because- well, he still has the feelings, doesn’t he?

Geno smiles a lot. Sid finds himself smiling back an uncomfortable amount.

\--

He wonders, pretty often, what he sees in Geno, what everyone else sees, because Geno- to put it nicely, he’s tall. To put it less nicely, he gangles. And he walks all loose-limbed and casual and deceptively fast, and he skates the same way, like he’s about to fall over, and Sid- he doesn’t know why he finds everything about Geno attractive, but it’s not fair. Then again, his _hands_ \- but the best thing about Geno is his kindness, his fondness for animals, the massive size of his heart. And Sid knows, objectively, that he likes all of these things about Geno a lot, but he has no idea how much until he loses them.

The concussion gets him different ways at different times. Sometimes he can’t open his eyes because even near-darkness is too bright, and the sight of a screen feels like being stabbed repeatedly in the head. Sometimes he has to wear earplugs, because even background noise is too loud, and the sound of his own voice vibrating through his skull makes his brain feel like a drum, pounding the rhythm of his heart in his ears. Sometimes it just makes him dizzy, so he can’t stand up, can’t focus on anything at all before his own personal screwed-up gravity slides it elsewhere. All of it makes him want to throw up, which is less than fun, so he tries to keep quiet, tries to keep from losing his mind with boredom.

Mostly, when it doesn’t send a spike through his brain or his heart, he thinks about hockey, tries to imagine what it’ll be like when he can get back on the ice again, scoring goals at will, and, on the power play, making passes to Geno, watching him shoot- but this is the reality of Sid’s mind, now. Every thought leads back to Geno, in the end. Or maybe it’s just that Sid’s life revolves around him. Either way, Sid doesn’t like it - _can’t_ like it - but, well, he misses Geno a lot, both the apparently unattainable crush and the very good friend, and it- Sid just has to live with it, is all. He supposes.

\--

He never realised how much he likes Geno’s walk until Geno can’t walk that way anymore, either, until Sid’s not even close to better but is okay enough to at least be injured together. Geno limps around carefully when he moves at all, and it’s- there’s not a lot that feels right about it, and it makes Sid really uneasy to enjoy anything about- but, well, Geno, injured, is very cuddly, and his warmth makes Sid’s headaches recede a lot, so. He’s not going to think too much about it, is all. That’s probably the safest plan.

Too bad he’s kind of awful at suppressing his feelings when it comes to Geno.

\--

And now Sid is here, in yet another bar after yet another win and, yet again, he’s staring at Geno, happy, funny, friendly, Geno. So he doesn’t notice when the table goes silent. “Sid?” Olli asks, and it sounds like it’s not the first time.

Sid sighs. “What’s up?” he asks, slightly wary, tearing his gaze away from Geno.

“What’s your type?” Spronger pipes in, and oh. Well.

“Oh,” Sid says. “Well…” Hags and Phil and Horny are all exchanging extremely unsubtle looks across the table with each other and with - for fuck’s sake, Brass has been with the team for no more than a week, what does he know about it? Tanger is tensed up in the seat next to Sid, too, obviously trying his hardest not to laugh. But the rookies are all waiting patiently for an answer, and even if it’s really none of their business at all, Sid can respect it as an exercise in team bonding, so he sits back in his chair, takes a sip of water, and says, “I guess… tall, dark hair, and a really great smile?” Across the table, Hags shoots a triumphant look at Brass, who’s clearly trying and failing to look surprised and annoyed. The rookies are all staring at him like this is some kind of revelation, and Tanger finally breaks and starts to laugh, and, yeah, for Sid, right now, this is all he really needs. His team is what he really lives for, what he loves most, Geno or no Geno.

Sometimes, he thinks, he forgets this. It’s nice, he thinks, to be reminded.

\--

“I get call from Lazy last night,” Geno says, sitting down in Flower’s- in the empty seat next to Sid’s on the plane. “I think, is to gloat, making playoffs before we do, but he just tells me he is very sorry, and then Flower is on the phone, and says you love me.”

“Uh,” Sid says, and he wants to escape but he can’t because Geno is blocking the way, and- but- oh god, why.

“He give me hint, what to say,” Geno says, smiling his usual bright and amazing smile, the one that makes Sid’s heart skip a beat, even during games, and Sid- he wants to melt, and sink down under his seat, and never have to come out again, not even for hockey, screw the team, but- Geno says, “Are those space pants?”

And Sid- Sid- _what?_

“What?” he chokes out, but Geno just looks at him, the same way he always looks at Sid, and oh. _Oh._

“Because your ass,” Geno says, pausing to poke his tongue mischievously out of the corner of his mouth, “out of this world.” And Sid desperately wishes Flower were there so he could laugh and cry and maybe punch him, but he’s also glad Flower’s not here, so he could tell Geno to say this, so the space is open for him to have sat down and said it in, and Sid- Sid is thinking all of this and none of this when he reaches up to caress Geno’s face, and- 

Geno leans over and down and kisses him, and-

Tanger starts catcalling them from the rear of the plane, and-

The trip is way too short, for Sid’s liking, but- it’s hockey, and there’ll always be more.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Hags, Horny, and Phil all had a bet on about when Sid & Geno would get together; Brass bet they wouldn't not because he thought they wouldn't but to get into Hags' head.  
> \- Quick, someone remind me what plot is.
> 
> -I'm doing a spinoff series to this over the offseason, I think, so if there's anything you wanted to see after any of these you're welcome to throw prompts at me and see if they'll stick.


End file.
